The fair Infanta midst the court
A look of sorrow wears,
Told by an aching heart how she
Is doom’d to pass her years;
For far from her is ever flown
The early bloom of life——
At length, after Count Alarcos has been long married, the forsaken princess discloses her seduction to her father. This scene is strongly painted, but not overcharged: the king is transported by rage and indignation; his honour appears to him so wounded, that nothing but the death of the Countess can be a sufficient satisfaction. He has an interview with the Count, addresses him courteously, represents the case to him with chivalrous dignity as a point of justice and honour, and concludes by categorically demanding the death of his lady. Thus the developement of the story commences in a manner, which, though most singular, is perhaps not unnatural, when the ideas of the age to which the composition belongs are considered. The Count conceives himself bound as a man of honour to give the king the satisfaction he desires. He promises to comply with his demand, and proceeds on his way home. There is a touching simplicity in the picture which is here drawn.
Llorando se parte el Conde,
Llorando, sin alegria,
Llorando a la Condessa,
Que mas que a sì la queria.
Lloraba tambien el Conde
Por tres hijos que tenia,
El una era de teta,
Que la Condessa lo cria,
Que no queria mamar
De tres amas, que tenia,
Sino era de su madre.
Weeping he homeward wends his way,
His grief nought can remove,
Because his tears are shed for her
He more than life doth love.
He weepeth too for his three sons,
In youth and beauty dear;
The youngest boy a suckling still,
The Countess’ self doth rear.
For, save his mother, none he lov’d,
Though he had nurses three,
Nor by the milk of other breasts
Would alimented be.
The pathetic interest now rises gradually to the highest pitch of tragic horror. The Countess, who receives her husband with the wonted marks of affection, in vain enquires the cause of his melancholy. He sits down to supper with his family, and again we have a situation painted with genuine feeling, though with little art.
Sentose el Conde a la mesa,
No cenava, ni podia,
Con sus hijos al costado,
Que muy mucho los queria.
Echo se sobre los hombros,
Hizo, como se dormia,
De lagrimas de sus ojos
Toda la mesa cubria.
The board is laid, he takes his place,
Where viands tempt in vain,
For near him his lov’d children are,
Now lov’d, alas! with pain.
In seeming sleep with head reclin’d,
He tries to hide his woe;
But from his eyes the big tears roll,
And o’er the table flow.
The apparent fatigue of the Count induces the Countess to accompany him to his apartment. When they enter, the Count fastens the door, relates what has passed, and desires his lady to prepare for death.
De morir aveis, Condessa,
Antes que amenesca el dia.
O Countess, thou art doom’d to die,
Before the morning’s dawn.